I think Spring is my favorite season.
Today was the first day of 2016 where I got to do my signature move: sit outside and read a book for half an hour and drink a cold brew.
This morning, outside Peet's, I kept rotating myself around my table because I worried I'd get a sunburn. It's February, mind you, but today it is over 70 degrees and there is not a cloud in the sky. It was excellent. One might say perfect.
I'll feel similarly in a few months. I'll sit on my balcony in the afternoon with a glass of wine and it'll be a perfect 75 in the shade, with just enough breeze. I'll head out to dinner without even my "just in case" cardigan, which is the way Davis communicates it is definitely Summer.
Autumn comes suddenly around here, I think, and I sort of dislike it, mostly for that reason. I have to put my sweater back on. Luckily, chai retakes its rightful place as my go-to beverage. And every day needs a scarf. That's how I know for sure.
[No one has even considered that Winter could possibly be my favorite season, so I hardly need mention that succumbing to the rainy season is my least favorite transition.]
As I was thinking about this all morning I also thought that maybe I just like whatever season it is. Or, like, whatever season it is about to be?
Maybe it's more that I like thresholds and transitions. I like movement. I don't know.
We're still a few weeks away from "official" Spring, and it's supposed to rain all weekend, so I'm definitely not out of the woods on this whole Winter situation. But, again, I sat out in the sun and read today and that counts for something.
Today was the first day of 2016 where I got to do my signature move: sit outside and read a book for half an hour and drink a cold brew.
This morning, outside Peet's, I kept rotating myself around my table because I worried I'd get a sunburn. It's February, mind you, but today it is over 70 degrees and there is not a cloud in the sky. It was excellent. One might say perfect.
I'll feel similarly in a few months. I'll sit on my balcony in the afternoon with a glass of wine and it'll be a perfect 75 in the shade, with just enough breeze. I'll head out to dinner without even my "just in case" cardigan, which is the way Davis communicates it is definitely Summer.
Autumn comes suddenly around here, I think, and I sort of dislike it, mostly for that reason. I have to put my sweater back on. Luckily, chai retakes its rightful place as my go-to beverage. And every day needs a scarf. That's how I know for sure.
[No one has even considered that Winter could possibly be my favorite season, so I hardly need mention that succumbing to the rainy season is my least favorite transition.]
As I was thinking about this all morning I also thought that maybe I just like whatever season it is. Or, like, whatever season it is about to be?
Maybe it's more that I like thresholds and transitions. I like movement. I don't know.
We're still a few weeks away from "official" Spring, and it's supposed to rain all weekend, so I'm definitely not out of the woods on this whole Winter situation. But, again, I sat out in the sun and read today and that counts for something.